


What Warms Leblanc

by katawa_shoujos_bitch



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katawa_shoujos_bitch/pseuds/katawa_shoujos_bitch
Summary: Barely-more-than-a-drabble little fic of how Goro Akechi views Leblanc, specifically as a safe place and as home of a certain boy he is inexplicably drawn to.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 13





	What Warms Leblanc

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i havent written in w a y too long so this is me getting a little back into it. it was pretty fun to write ngl, not my best but i hope its enjoyable!

There were quite a few virtues held within the cafe Leblanc.

First and foremost was, of course, the coffee. Possibly the best Goro had ever tasted--not just in terms of technical quality, but there was a quality behind it. Saying it tasted like home was far too stupid to say aloud--so he wouldn’t. 

But there was also the atmosphere. Warm and comforting. An oasis in a vast, unrelenting desert. Respite. 

Maybe it was the quiet. Unlike most cafes he visited (for meetings or for his blog or whatever else he was made to jam into his hell of a schedule), Leblanc opted to play no music, and furthermore, Goro had never once seen it crowded. Never more than two or three customers aside from himself. Even then, those visitors would be, say, an eldery couple enjoying their afternoon, a friend of Sakura’s coming to say hi and buying a cup out of sheer convenience, a slightly troubled-looking twenty-something sitting and sipping in silence. 

Well, he pondered, arguably he, himself, could be considered to be of that final category--just… premature. He used to wonder if it was odd that a boy as young as fifteen needed a place of comfort as desperately as he did. 

He didn’t dwell on such concepts any longer, though. It was a waste of time and energy to wonder just how far from  _ normal  _ he was, and, regardless, he now had such a place to take respite in. 

As it was, Goro could sit at the counter, give a courteous smile, and be given exactly the same perfect order without even having to speak--once you became even a semi-regular customer, Sakura was good at remembering what you liked. Something about that was comforting, too. The news played on an old, tiny television in the corner, the volume low, just loud enough to behave as ambient buzzing.

Granted, though Goro was seasoned at picking and choosing which emotions were worth letting through, he wasn’t unable to identify the ones he decided against. The ones deemed unproductive, hindering, or plain embarrassing.

Such as the undeniable truth that the ‘part-timer’ (who clearly lived above the cafe and didn’t take much care to hide the fact) he often saw there was a definite contribution to the calming effect the place seemed to have on him.

The way he smiled, the care with which he poured the coffee--with the confidence of someone who knew every step by heart, but the scrutiny of someone who hadn’t memorized it all that long ago--and, most of all, the way his eyes lit up just ever so slightly when they met Goro’s, as if they were old friends.

Goro didn’t see that light between him and the other customers. In ways he couldn’t begin to identify, it  _ affected  _ him.

Only a couple times, Goro had seen that boy with his friends. Though the angle was never perfect, for just the briefest moment, he saw it--that same light. 

On some level, it bothered him to see it directed at others. On another, it confirmed he hadn’t been imagining it. Some twisted wishful thinking--and what would he even be wishing for?

Attention? He had too much of that already. An overabundant, debilitating amount of attention at all times.

Well. Except for when he was in the Metaverse.

Goro closed his eyes. No point thinking about that when he didn’t absolutely need to.

And except for in Leblanc. Leblanc, where the greatest length of attention he could he paid was the eyes of Ren Amamiya trained on him for a moment longer than usual, indescribable but undeniably charged--electric. 

Or, perhaps that truly  _ was  _ wishful thinking. 

_ Wishing for what?  _

At the age of eleven, it had all crashed down on him at once--the catastrophe that was his existence, the death his very birth had caused. Since then, having an identity wasn’t much of a concern. He would never have one. Goro had accepted that he would never view himself as much more than a vessel with which he could take revenge, prove his worthiness to live, get done what he needed to get done, and die.

_ Unfortunately,  _ that vessel seemed to be malfunctioning, for lack of a better term. The sheer amount of time he spent with his mind elsewhere, in the warm ambience of Leblanc, was becoming quite troublesome. 

He was drawn to that damn boy like a red string of fate that dug into his wrists, but if it was drawing blood, where did wound end and fate begin?

With an unreasonable certainty, Goro knew that their lives were tied--or, at the very least, that  _ his  _ life was tied. The warmth of the cafe, the electricity of their conversations, no matter how mundane--they were so perfectly matched. Goro knew, oh-so-passively, that he would end here. He just didn’t know when. 

Goro Akechi was in far too deep with Ren Amamiya. Oh, how a single handshake could take you down.

_ Thank you for everything. _

_ I owe you everything back. _


End file.
